


A Christmas Miracle, Or Some Such Sentimentality

by loveanddeathandartandtaxes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Trans Sherlock, failing, sullying a childhood bedroom, trying to be quiet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveanddeathandartandtaxes/pseuds/loveanddeathandartandtaxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Love you so much,” Sherlock gasps as his fingers move inside himself. “I never imagined I could have anyone like you - but I hoped, god, I <i>fantasised</i>.”<br/>“Sherlock.” They catch each other’s eyes, and John’s face is a love letter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Miracle, Or Some Such Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Practicefortheheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Practicefortheheart/gifts), [Shahrazaad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shahrazaad/gifts).



John giggles as Sherlock sheds his paper crown and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

“What?”

“No, nothing,” he shakes his head. He pushes down his jeans and giggles again.

“You’re not… I don’t think you’re that drunk, John. What is it.”

“I think you’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Sherlock is pleasantly warm all over from the wine and whiskey, but he feels his cheeks burn red.

“I know,” he murmurs.

“Fucking gorgeous,” John assures him, drawing him into an embrace, hands at home on his arse. “I was just wondering if you ever had anyone here – had sex under everyone’s noses.”

“John,” Sherlock can only gasp, as John begins to rut against him. John’s jumper tickles his belly, but his trousers keep him from feeling every detail of his powerful thighs.

“Ever try that, Sherlock? Did you sneak a boyfriend in here, ask him to fuck you?  Did he bite your lip to keep you quiet? I know you’re not usually quiet. Hmm?”

“No, I – John.” John does not seem too invested in hearing an answer, as he is already undoing Sherlock’s flies. He wants to tell him, though.

“I never – no, John, I never had – here, or anywhere, actually – I never wanted, before you…”

With John’s hands cradling his face, he cannot hide. Nerves twist his insides and he tries to remove John’s jumper. It’s hateful, cheerfully tasteless with seasonal designs knitted into it.

“Sherlock, are you seriously telling me this?”

“Mm.”

“Our first time, when we – in the kitchen? That was your – your very first time?”

“I –” He can’t look John in the eye.

“You never told me? Love? Did you think it would matter to me?”

“Of course not, I just.” His hands flex and clench on John’s hips.

“So you’ve never defiled this bed, then?” John’s eyes sparkle.

“I – I wouldn’t say that,” Sherlock stammers. “My first, um, toys, I had here.”

Trim hips buck against his thigh.

“Fucking gorgeous,” John repeats, his voice low. “I want to fuck you, here, now. Can I?”

“Please,” he whispers.

“Naked on the bed, then, love. Show me what you’d do with your toy.”

 

John has watched him open himself up before – they have tried many things in the last few months. He strips as quickly as he can and lies in the middle of his bed. John sits on the edge of the mattress, absently playing with his cock as it hardens.

 

“Love you so much,” Sherlock gasps as his fingers move inside himself. “I never imagined I could have anyone like you - but I hoped, god, I _fantasised_.”

“Sherlock.” They catch each other’s eyes, and John’s face is a love letter.

“I’m ready enough, please, please.”

When John gestures at him he shifts away from where he lies and John takes his place, sitting near the head of the bed. His cock juts proudly from the thatch of hair at its base. Before John can say anything else, Sherlock kisses the tip, licks up the length of it, and suckles the head.

“Sh-” John’s voice is loud, and he bites his fist to quiet himself. “Cheeky. Pass me the lube and come here.”

Hanging onto the bedhead, Sherlock positions himself over John, who holds his erection steady to guide it inside him. Instead of sinking right onto him, he teases them both by rocking his hips, sliding John’s cock against himself, over and over.

“Are you trying - to make me yell - instead of you?” John grits out.

“Whatever works,” Sherlock replies, and takes a deep breath, bearing down a little to allow John to breach him.

“Love you,” John says, like he always does when he is inside Sherlock.

“I know.” It takes a moment, but eventually he can sit on John’s thighs, full, full. He grinds down further, for good measure, and John nips at his exposed throat.

“C’mere, you bloody giraffe. Let me kiss you.”

Sherlock bends, gasping when it shifts John’s cock in him. When their lips brush together, John slings one hand around the back of his neck to keep him in place, and curls the other around his cock.

“Keep your hands where they are, yeah?”

With a moan Sherlock nods. John licks the sound out of his mouth. He kisses him back, sloppily, unable to focus. A thrust rocking into him throws his head back, and John resumes his decoration of Sherlock’s neck, sucking, biting, licking. His fingers tease the delicate skin around the head of his cock, and it is agony.

“Is this what you imagined, hmm? That I’d take control of you - that I’d take care of you?”

“John,”

“Did you imagine me worshipping you like I do? Would you picture me down _here_ -” a firm stroking caress indicates where he means - “loving you, your softness, your scent, your shape? Kissing you? Sucking you? Licking you - licking into you?”

“John -”

“Keep your hands there, love, hang on, I’ve got you. Come here. Kiss me while you ride me, you can do that, yeah? You can come like that?”

He can do anything for John. Wiggling his fingers before they cramp grasping the headboard, he curves his back again to reach John’s mouth with his own, and starts to roll his hips.

“ _Fuck_ \- Sherlock, you -” John realises he is not being quiet, and clamps his mouth shut. Sherlock chuckles and presses a sweet kiss to his thin lips.

“You’re such a bastard, god, I love you so much.” His hand on Sherlock’s cock moves faster, now, firmer, and Sherlock thinks he has more to say but it is muffled into his neck and collarbone. John is meeting him thrust for thrust. When he shushes him, it takes Sherlock a moment to recognise he’s groaning, and another to stop himself.

“Almost - John, please, just -”

“Sshh,” John repeats. “Can’t wake your family.”

“That-” _shouldn’t be as arousing as it is,_ he wants to say, but he’s never been particularly eloquent for a minute either side of orgasm. He can feel John pulsing hot inside him. He drags in air. John releases his sensitive cock, holds his hip. Smoothing back his curls, he giggles.

“There you go, love. Dunno how successful we were at being quiet, though.”

“Don’t care.” John loves everything about him, he has assured Sherlock, including the way he tends to cling, limpet-like, to John after sex. “Mycroft will see what you’ve done to my neck, anyway. Mum might go so far as to call you a Christmas miracle, or some such sentimentality. Let’s just see Dad in the morning before we head home. He will at least be reasonable.”

“You want to go home right away?”

“Mm. Boxing Day is practically a guarantee for a good murder or two, why?”

“Scotland Yard will see what’s going on with your neck, too, you know.”

Sherlock grumbles wordlessly, and John laughs again.

**Author's Note:**

> [(on tumblr)](http://loveanddeathandartandtaxes.tumblr.com/post/136109487110/a-christmas-miracle-or-some-such-sentimentality)
> 
>  
> 
> [(artwork by Nina/practicefortheheart)](http://practicefortheheart.tumblr.com/post/136134180979/john-giggles-as-sherlock-sheds-his-paper-crown-and)


End file.
